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@Littlesue & Lurena - Oh, what could have been! I love it when stories extrapolate from a brief comments in canon (like working on the same project) and to have them illustrated as well is a double bonus! Thank you

Thank you!
That little scene by the Teleport is one of those moments that make B7 special.
I love the way Sally replies 'I didn't work on it!'
And the reaction of Mr T and Mr D is priceless!
I was a bit stumped at first as to how to work that moment into a story...but Lurena came up trumps.
She comes up with the ideas..I just write them.

Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

He was in real trouble now. Vila took another look and felt the panic rise. How was he going to explain this? More importantly, would he live long enough to explain? His eyes darted about, looking for somewhere to hide...

The service corridor was a stark contrast to the raucous glitz of Space City's casinos and nightclubs. Instead of music, laughter, jingling of coins and rattle of roulette wheels, there was only the hum of generators – plus rapidly approaching footsteps and harsh voices calling, "He went this way!"

Vila couldn't feign innocence or ignorance; not with his pockets full of credits and valuables liberated from their previous owners. Finding an unlocked door marked Additional Storage, he slipped thankfully into its dark interior. He listened intently until the footsteps passed, the voices arguing, "Not here - try the other corridor."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Safe, for now. There was probably nothing in here worth stealing, but he might as well have a look. Activating the lights, Vila suddenly found himself face to face with a young woman dressed in a maintenance worker's uniform, her astonished expression mirroring his own. They stared at each other, then Vila found his voice. "Nutmeg?"

"It's Nemmy, actually. Nutmeg's my stage name. What are you doing in here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I asked first."

"Hiding. There are people after me." Vila gestured at her uniform. "Good disguise. I almost didn't recognise you with..."

"Very slick, the way you got into customers' pockets while they were distracted by my performance."

"But you didn't finish your dance. You had to be replaced because you were drunk."

"I was pretending. I saw Viktor in the audience again, and wanted to escape before he requested my private services. Works every time."

Vila's teleport bracelet chimed. He rolled his eyes, but obediently raised his arm. "What do you want, Cally?"

"I want you back here. Get ready to teleport."

"Is that your mother?" Nemmy whispered. "Pretend to be drunk!"

"Wasting your time," Vila slurred. "I'm not going to be snatched away in the middle of... anything. Sightseeing." He looked round at the shelves of machine parts, tools and untidy spools of cable. "You should see some of the sights I'm seeing."

Nemmy unzipped her grey jacket, showing him a brief glimpse of the glittering costume underneath. Vila almost choked, but continued, "No. Perhaps you shouldn't." He managed to complete his conversation with Cally, despite Nemmy's giggling attempts to distract him.

"Not bad. Keep it a bit more subtle next time. And remember to act hungover when you get back - pretend you've got a headache."

Vila sighed. "The trouble I'm in, I probably won't need to pretend."

Nemmy cautiously opened the door and stepped out into the quiet corridor. "All clear. We're safe to go. I'll return to my quarters, you'd better get back to the wife. But as we're partners in crime, I'd like my share of the loot, please." She held out a hand.

Vila passed her some of the contents of his pockets, and kissed her cheek. "Nice to meet you, Nemmy. Thanks for the advice."

"Bye, Vila. Mind your teeth!"

Vila watched until she disappeared round the corner. Then assuming what he hoped would be a convincing stance, moaning and clutching his head, he called for teleport.

***

Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblrThere's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes

And now Vila's turn.
With another picture by Lurena featuring our favourite pickpocket!!!

He was in real trouble now.
Vila took another look and felt the panic rise.
How was he going to explain this? More importantly, would he live long enough to explain?
His eyes darted about looking for somewhere to hide.
But there was nowhere.
This time they had him.
He knew that this time there would be no further warnings.
His efforts to lead a life not controlled by his desire to pick pockets or open the locked safe door had come to naught.
The powers that be had tried so hard to ‘change’ him, adjust what made him tick. All efforts had proved fruitless and now he was standing on the mezzanine, trying to think of a plausible excuse to explain what he, a lowly Delta Grade, was doing here in the zone exclusive to the Alpha Grades.
Admittedly, he shouldn’t have ventured through that half opened door, but it was so tempting; a chance in a lifetime to see how the other half lived.
He hadn’t even known about that door, but he had.
The man who had rushed past him; the man, who without even checking to see if anyone was watching, had overridden the complex computer codes and opened the door leading into the conduit that had led him, Vila, to this concourse.
Vila could see the squad of soldiers approaching him at a run. He thought it best not to resist, not to try and use his sharp wit to extricate himself, or even feign dull wits.
That was what had kept him out of trouble for so long, pretending to be a lowly Delta Grade, while his true intellect was hidden from view.
They were closing in on him.
The gems in the clasp of his sweaty palms would be his undoing. How to explain…
But the men ran right past him, as if he was invisible.
They had other prey. Vila could only pity whoever that poor soul was.
Then he heard the commotion.
They had caught him.
Vila struggled to see exactly who it was, but he decided it was safer, and wiser, to try and blend in with the bland surroundings; to be just a passing innocent.
The squad of soldiers made their way back, this time with their quarry in their midst.
Vila couldn’t quite see who it was, but he resembled the man who had opened that gateway into this other world. He seemed sullen, downcast, dejected.
“Well, what have we here?”
Vila froze. His lax concentration had condemned him.
“I…”
“Been busy, have we?”
The faceless trooper pointed to the gems in Vila’s hands.
“Um…these?”
“Name?”
“Restal; Vila Restal.”
A few moments passed as the guard passed on that snippet of information to his superiors. And all the while, Vila was watching as the group of other soldiers, with their prisoner, disappeared off the mezzanine and, for that poor soul, an uncertain future.
“I think you’ve chanced your luck just one to many times…”
“Eh….” Vila said absently.
“So, you’re interested in the fate of your friend, are you?”
“Friend?” Vila asked, his thoughts abruptly pulled into focus, “He’s not…I mean, I don’t even know…”
“….Well, not to worry. You and he will soon be together again. A nice long trip to reminisce and discuss how you both ended up on a prison ship bound for some dismal penal colony.”
“What? They can’t do that?”
The faceless guard took the gems from Vila’s hands.
He leaned closer to Vila’s pale face. “As a matter of fact; they can.”

Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!

@ Travisina: At last we get to know what happens at the other end of the communications links in Shadow ... I always wondered about what things Vila is seeing. Three cheers to the railway service for inspiring you to these lovely pieces!

@ Lurena & LS: With Vila's capture, you have filled another gap. The most interesting aspect for me is the fact that you did not do the obvious, i.e. writing a story about Vila getting out of the mess in his usual cunning way, but showing the one incidenct where he didn't. - I especially like A Matter of Time. A really clever idea to combine elements from different episodes in such a convincing way - it feels like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally all clicking into place (how very apt for a story co-authored by Lurena !). Identifying the protagonists not explicitly by their names but by real-world allusions is a fascinating device. I really loved that; as well as the two great illustrations!

Two more interesting glimpses into life behind canon - by the time we've finished with these challenges, we'll have chronicled every moment in our heroes' lives from birth to 'Blake' and beyond (and no doubt some poor 2nd or 3rd generation B7 fan will attempt to put them all together in various timelines!)

@ Travisina - Vila trapped in a cupboard with a woman of 'negotiable affection' made me smile and it was artfully woven between the canon conversation. The thought of Cally as Vila's mum almost caused a keyboard accident!

@ littlesue & Lurena - now we know how Vila came to be in a position to steal Blake's watch. I like the way it was not just theft that motivated him to intrude, but curiousity. And another great picture - good job!

He was in real trouble now. Vila took another look and felt the panic rise. How was he going to explain this? More importantly, would he live long enough to explain? His eyes darted about looking for somewhere to hide.

But there was nowhere to hide. You can’t win, Vila. You’re mine to do as I please.

“Go away”, Vila shouted up to the ceiling, “leave me alone!”.

But all he could hear was mocking laughter. My mocking laughter.

Avon appeared in the corridor. “What’s up, Vila?”

“It’s him!”

“Who?”

“Look”. Vila pointed up to the top left corner. “We’ve transferred back into one of Trevor Travis’s fanfics again. I thought you’d broken that damn machine, and the only one still working is SD’s Pan Genre Transition Machine.”

“Bad news, Vila, I had to fix the Pan Author Matter Machine to help the Doctor to defeat Kronos and the Master.”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I tell you what’s wrong. Last time I was in one of Trevor Travis’s fanfics, the psychopath killed me, that’s what’s wrong. Plus, I’ve been throwing stones at his Og avatar.”

“Vila, you fool, that’s bound to antagonize TT. Og is his drinking buddy. Why did you do that?”

“Well remember that episode in the Xenon Base shower room, when Og….”

Avon cut him short. “That was disgusting.”

“You weren’t the one who had to clean it up!”

“We’re straying from the point, Vila. We need to get out of TT’s fanfic as soon as possible, before something terrible happens to one of us, most likely to you.”

At that moment, the world started to blur in front of them.

****

Oh, do I have to finish the story? Oh, very well then. Maybe I could have a rematch between the Nimon and the Menoptera, finishing with the Menoptera being dissected very slowly and painfully. No, I know…

****

Avon and Vila were on a beautiful beach, with the sun beaming down on them. It was so hot, Avon had to take his leather jacket off.

“Where are we now?”, asked Vila.

In front of them was a man with a very hairy chest and very shapely blonde in a red swimsuit. Avon realised she’d had surgery. Vila just stared.

“Vila, I know where we are.”

“Uh?”

“Vila, there’s drool coming out of the side of your mouth.”

“Oh sorry, I was distracted.”

“I noticed”.

“So, where are we?”

“Vila, the full name of the machine is the Pan Author Matter Machine In Existential Space. And we used it in conjunction with TOMTIT.” Vila looked blankly. “The Doctor and myself defeated Kronos using a Pan Author Matter Machine In Existential Space Though Interstitial Time Sub-beam.”

“And?”

“Think about the acronym, Vila.”

Vila worked it out as he repeated the words: “Pan Author Matter Machine In Existential Space Though Interstitial Time Sub-beam. Oh I see… this is Baywatch!”

“Precisely.”

Vila sat down on the beach, propping himself up with his hands behind his arms.

“Vila, what are you doing? We still need to get out of TT’s fanfic.”

“What’s the rush, Avon? Why don’t we stay here for a bit, and enjoy the view? Look, that’s Yasmine Bleeth over there!” Avon shook his head in dismay. “In any case, this is paradise. What could possibly go wrong here?”

A freak tidal wave hit the Californian beach. Both Avon and Vila were ten feet deep in water.

“Vila, you had to talk too soon!”

“At least TT hasn’t killed me this time!”

At that moment, Jaws chewed off Vila’s legs and then swallowed up the rest of him.

THE END?

(Postscript: As I completed writing this story, the fluid link on the Pan Author Matter Machine In Existential Space ran out of Mercury, and therefore Vila was restored to life, and Avon & Vila were returned to SD's fanfics for the rest of 2015!).Edited by trevor travis on 25 May 2015 10:12:09

I'm busy catching up reading all the great contributions and Iat the moment I'm so impressed that I need a break! So many and diverse stories; so many talented authors!
What can I add to all the comments already given? Not much actually...

@ Anniew: I admire your guts to use that Pan Author Matter Machine! Well done story!
@Paula: Will your Green Soma finally teach me to bear a drink? LOL
@Mistletoe: Vila’s poor childhood and the complaint about neglect and indifference from those in authority are a solid basis for Vila's attitude.
@Brad: Such a great and disturbing alternative to Orbit! I challenge you to write the last Blake's 7 episode! However, I can't see Vila spoiling Orac, even not when his mind was troubled by panic. He did save Orac before (Terminal) and I am convinced he was able to communicate with it, just like Jenna could)
@Purplecleric: Walk a mile, what a brilliant insight in Vila and Avon’s psyche! Your story moved me and that feeling hasn’t left me for hours. Oops, here it is again...
@Travisina: you made that nothing matters more than ever! Very clever!

Now I'm going to have a break, then I can fully enjoy the rest of the thread!

Oh, and thank you so much for your kind compliments and comments on the stories/illustrations by Littlesue and little me.
It is a joy to team up with Littlesue!
To be continued...

Great bunch of stories, filling in the gaps, adding insights, entertaining us. I'm glad Vila did more than get drunk on Space City....feel sad that he was sentenced to Cygnus Alpha for such a trial reason and glad he escaped death by Jaws. Quite a weekend for him. Thank you all.

I am cheating. In two ways:
A: I’m way beyond the word count.
B: This is not a B7 story. I just rewrote an eight year old story of mine. I already toyed with this idea for the ‘mad’ word prompt in March, but did not complete it. But this month’s complete-the-scene challenge was nearly exactly what I had in mind for the beginning of that story, so I could no longer withstand the temptation.

The Solomon Principle

He was in real trouble now. Vila took another look and felt the panic rise. How was he going to explain this? More importantly, would he live long enough to explain? His eyes darted about looking for somewhere to hide.

Vila had opened the door of the seemingly deserted Federation complex, but it had closed as soon as he was inside. It featured a high-security lock on the outside, so there was no chance that Avon might come to his rescue. The real problem though was the fact that there was no lock on the inside. Not having a chance to get out was bad enough, but the real panic set in when he heard the footsteps approaching. How to explain his presence in a high-security Federation installation?

It wasn’t a trooper who came around the corner, but a nursebot. Nice to look at for sure, but it would be even harder to fool her/it than one of the Federation troopers who usually did not excel in intellectual capacity.

But there was no need to fool the robot. It fooled itself. "You have finally arrived, doctor", it exclaimed.

Whoever ran this complex was obviously so confident in the infallibility of the locks that the mere act of entering legitimated Vila’s presence.

"I just realised that I forgot something", he said, "would you mind opening the door again? I’ll be back in a minute."

"Security protocol prohibits such an action. You are to stay inside the compound until you have completed your task." It was not so easy then.

"Follow me." The nursebot guided him to two prisoner cells, sealed off by force walls.

"Two years ago, while we were closing the mental hospital, our only remaining inmate escaped from his cell and destroyed all medical records", the nursebot explained, "as I could no longer distinguish between him and the director, I was forced to lock up both. My request for a psychologist was never answered."

Vila knew what had happened: During the war, the Federation had completely forgotten about the hospital. His first reflex was to arbitrarily declare one of the inmates to be the patient. On second thought, he did not want to release someone who might be a psychopathic killer while he was still here.

"Can you show me to the office?", he asked. Maybe he could find a clue.

The nursebot led him to a small office with a computer terminal. As he lacked Avon’s expertise to use it in order to manipulate the door controls, he tried to look up some psychological information instead. The personal files were erased, but there was plenty of general information on mental deseases. There were questionnaires. There was a Rorschach test. There were devices that recorded brain waves.

He tried it all. The results may have been conclusive for an expert in psychology, but not for a Delta grade expert in lock-picking. The hours went by, and he began to fear that Avon would eventually leave the planet. Surely he would not risk to teleport into the building.

When Vila searched the compound for more information, he discovered a locked cabinet in the canteen. The lock was complicated. Vila needed the best part of five minutes to open it.

A dozen bottles of wine stared at him.

Yes. That was the solution.

Armed with three bottles of invinoveritas, Vila went back to the cells for a chat and a drink with the inmates, one after the other. Soon his companions were comfortably tipsy. "What do you think yourself?" Vila asked casually. He managed to let it sound like the harmless question of a drinking chum. "Do you really feel mentally sane?"

The man in the first cell looked at him, his eyes gazing dreamily. "To be honest", he answered, "there are days when I doubt that myself."

When Vila asked the same question in cell no. 2, the inmate jumped to his feet. "Of course I am sane", he cried, "how can you doubt that?"

Vila left the second cell and pointed back. "Lock up that one", he said.
Edited by Hugbot on 25 May 2015 22:02:19

(Postscript: As I completed writing this story, the fluid link on the Pan Author Matter Machine In Existential Space ran out of Mercury, and therefore Vila was restored to life, and Avon & Vila were returned to SD's fanfics for the rest of 2015!).

@ Hugbot - loved that one, my favourite so far this month; it subverted the 'Vila is a coward and a drunk' trope by having him confront the danger and part with the wine to achieve his goal, using intelligence and problem solving skills.

Reversing the polarity of the neutron flow. I bet that means something. It sounds great.

@Hugbot - that's an excellent story! You say it's not a B7 story - well, maybe it wasn't originally, but it fits so perfectly with the B7 universe and the character of Vila that I would argue that it's actually very much a B7 story. As for the word count - well, we're all guilty of that to some degree, and nobody here is cut off sharp after 500 words - unlike an online writing course I did last year, which didn't accept even one word over the limit! That was a tough discipline to master.

@Everybody who gave nice feedback to my Vila scene - thanks! I had to struggle to keep it short, because it kept trying to escape and turn into a full-blown Vila/Nemmy story. I've parked it for possible future development, if anyone might be interested...?

Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblrThere's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes